Saturday, July 21, 2007

CAMPING WRAP-UP—

While biking about 16 miles on South Bass Island during this week’s camping event I discovered the Put-in-Bay Township meeting house. Their outside bulletin board announced the schedule of meetings for their Port Authority. Not many townships around here I can think of have much need for a committee like that.

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On the ferry ride to the island I met a crew member who had more than 40 years service with the Miller Ferry Line. I sheepishly admitted to him I once made it eight years with a single employer.

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I was sitting on the sea wall at Perry’s Monument and was fascinated to watch--then talk to, as they slid by--two fellows who were launching their kayaks for a tour around the island. Both looked like they were equipped for a small expedition, and, I was amazed to learn they can re-board one of those vessels after a capsize in deep water—by using an outrigger. I wouldn’t want to try that in a kayak store.

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I ordered my lunch hot dog with mustard at the town’s Dairy Queen. It came with catsup. I wondered how that acne-laden kid who took my order found his way to work that morning.

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Then, just around the corner my spirits were lifted when I encountered some scantily clad young ladies sipping their adult beverages while sitting on submerged barstools in a tropical setting at a bar—which itself, was submerged in an indoor/outdoor swimming pool. Never did notice how the bartender was conducting business.

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That night I was sharing beverages with my camping-lady-neighbor from southern Michigan. She was enjoying a bottle of Miller Lite Beer and I had a mixed beverage discretely concealed in a glass. Yup, “Barney” came by. You know, one like the guy from the old TV show who was only allowed to have one bullet. This one stopped his cruiser and ordered Michelle to “Dump it out.” And, “that’s your first and last warning” he squawked while leaving. Somehow, he managed to elevate her mild indiscretion to near felonious level. We acted properly chastised.

* * *

My neighbors on the other side for several days were a young minister and his wife from Southeast of Pittsburg. We shared a passion—and consequently considerable—discussion on our favorite bike stories. They were on their way to Wisconsin for some serious, back-woods riding. I hope I meet them again when I get to Confluence, PA one of these days.

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